Frolicksome, Irksome
by The Surrealist
Summary: After Christine denies his love for her, Meg Giry and the Phantom fall in love. But just as their love begins to blossom furthermore, she is taken away. As he yearns for her, she returns to him.
1. Enter Heartbreak

Chapter 1: Enter, Heartbreak

**A/N: First Phantom Fanfiction. **

**Warning: Erik seems to be a tad OOC here. Urk.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own a single stock of Leroux's Phantom of the Opera.**

* * *

"How dare you even _imply_ such blasphemy?!" A weak, little squeak of a cough followed the bellow of the woeful man. "Alas, my time is nearly over. You need not worry yourself any further, Phantom. " The thin voice hardly gave an echo in the opera house. A sob resounded throughout the house, then...utter and complete silence that one would only be met with at a cemetery.

A heartbreaking moment passes as the spirit of Meg Giry finally rests, at peace from the terrible plague that had ravaged her body. "..._oh, can't you see_..." the first line of a mournful song came out of the Phantom's lips in a rushed whisper, "..._can't you see, darling ... that Christine was not the one? It was you, all from the start, standing blamelessly yet taking out my heart? I never said this love was here always, but we made something, can't you see? So, if you can find the heart, please...please, oh, cant you see_?"

Although the words came out never above a whisper and the Phantom choked upon some syllables, the tune to **Think of Me** had turned anguished, rather than the usual mellow insight it contained.

_Mesothelioma._

That was the name of the stranger who had taken his love away this time.

His first love, Christine Daae, had been taken away by a stranger with the name of The Vicomte De Chagny, and anybody with familiarities to the man would know him as 'Raoul'. His second love, Meg Giry, had been taken away by a stranger with the name of Mesothelioma. However, Erik and Mesothelioma had become well acquainted after Erik's vigorous research in the short span of the two years it took to take Meg Giry away from him.

"No early symptoms…" Erik recited aloud from heart, due to a myriad amount of times he had read the passage over and over, again and again. "…breathlessness on exercise…" He rasped as a gloved finger ran down her neck, and soon moved over her lungs. "…chest pain…" his voice grew hoarser by the second as he left his hand over Meg Giry's still heart.

How wonderful it had been when this heart had beaten!

An icy tear ran down his cheek and splashed upon Meg's pallid lips. "…persistent cough…." He wiped away his own tear that had fallen onto her lips. "…but, you were a brave girl. You fought off bronchitis….the last symptom." He sobbed uncontrollably as he clutched onto her clothes. Erik fully understood that this was not the time to mourn. He had had two entire years, a total of nearly seven hundred and fifty days, give and take a few weeks.

"Oh, God." Erik managed to utter. He had turned away from God, and now he was coming back, crawling on his knees for forgiveness. "Please, dear God…" Erik had learned at an early age that God did not take any pity in the Devil's Child. God had shunned his soul from the eternal happiness known to mortals as 'Heaven'. No miracles would be granted. No Pity. Yet, Erik still called his name, throwing all of his pride away and calling God's name. Erik sought out some sort of a miracle. However, God did not give this ghost much to believe upon…

The Phantom's sobs quieted down drastically as he heard something.

What? Erik's head rose up slowly. Yes… it was what he had predicted. A heartbeat! He moved his ear toward Meg's nose and mouth. Yes, low, barely inaudible, but she was breathing! Life! "Meg!" a cry arose from The Phantom's throat, unable to restrain himself.

She was deathly pale, the Angel of Death itself.

Quickly and soundlessly, he brought smelling salts and waved it underneath her nose; the thread of hope to her coming back to him was growing thicker by the minute. "My dear Meg, please…return to me..."

A few seconds after his last uttered words, her bleary, doe brown eyes opened and blinked once in recognition.

God had shown him mercy.

"I was gone, Erik." Meg's voice came out as timid as ever. "…I heard you singing…and I've come back…I don't know how-- !" she choked upon her last words as she flung her arms around him, one arm gripping tightly to his cape, and the other one upon his hair. Erik suppressed a gag as the cape was pulled down, tightening his airways. He returned the hug, nevertheless.

"How had this become possible, Erik?" Meg whispered into his ear. "Nearly three years ago, we've met….so many words, thoughts, and actions in such a small amount of time." She continued, her voice growing stronger with each word that passed her lips, which were returning to their original color. "Can you recall those first moments we met? " She let out a slight laugh, slightly hysteric at the thought of her returning to her beloved so suddenly, after the long painful years she had endured while being slowly ripped away from him.

"I was scared out of my wits, you know." She admitted, her golden tresses falling pompously around her shoulders with a light bounce. Erik could only feebly nod. Meg was here. With him. She had returned.

Meg had rejected Heaven's glorious comforts to be with him.

Would she be damned to eternal hell for this? Erik could not help keep malicious thoughts like these from roaming his mind silently. Meg deserved much more than him, he knew so. Her angelic features had drawn many admirers, even from the farthest lands. Those chocolate eyes seemed constantly voracious, seemingly always begging for attention. Her blonde curls that always bounced with even the slightest movement of her head. The small frame that contained the strong soul within. She was stubborn just as he was, perhaps even more. The _Corps De Ballet_ had never struck anything in Erik, never mind love.

So, how on earth did she end up with a man like him? So disfigured to the point of causing people to faint, as she was beautiful to the point of bringing tears to the audience's eyes. "Where are you going, my love?" Meg Giry's voice sounded muffled. Erik's attention snapped back to reality. "What do you speak of? I am not going anywhere…" he soothed, smiling lightly. "Your eyes are telling me that you are obviously elsewhere…" Meg chirped knowingly, a hint of something underlying her mask of cheerfulness.

"You are just the same as before, my Meg. Stubborn and witty as ever." He let out a light laugh. "Pray, how was it able for you to come back to me?" His eyes twinkled lightly, something that Meg acknowledged only she herself could do, not Christine. "Inexplicable, my darling. Perhaps we should best put it behind us?" Meg offered, and the Phantom nodded.

* * *

**A/N: So, what do you think of it? I've written this in a matter of a week after I've watched the Broadway play of Phantom of the Opera. Promptly after the Play, I rushed to the Library to borrow the Movie. And after borrowing the movie, I've watched it seven times through the course of three days. I've also started to re-read the book. I've read it when I was younger, but I hardly knew what it was talking about. Now, I'm in a state of slight psyco-ism. Psycotically obsessed with Leroux's haunting tale. **

**Read and Review and You Will Be Rewarded.**


	2. Enter Innocence

**Chapter 2: Enter Innocence**

**A/N: Hello My Dears, and thank you for continuing to read my story, even if you do not leave a review. I've received 102 hits within the course of exactly 2 weeks (14 days). (Hurrah)**

**Personal Thanks and Best Wishes to My First Four Reviewers, here they are in order:**

**1. Truth Questor 2. Hot4Gerry 3. Lady Wen 4. wpscannergirl2007**

**Thank you all for your support and suggestions, I have taken them all into deep consideration during the making of this chapter! Thanks especially to Truth Questor for the paragraph formatting bit.**

**_This Chapter Takes Place Three Years Back, but not before a mild flash forward, so you are now forewarned!_**

**Disclaimer: I dont own a single cent of Leroux's fairytale. Too bad, eh?**

* * *

An apple. An apple is the symbol is innocence, blamelessness; yet, it is stained red, the color of absolute blame. Once you bite into an apple, a myriad of sensations can overtake your mind. Bitterness of the world, yet there is the lingering aftertaste of a sweetness. An impossible sweetness that one can only experience for a moment, before the blandness of the skin of the apple snatches the taste of heaven away. Meg Giry had bitten into an apple such as this one.

The Phantom of the Opera had a white mask, which many people associated with ugliness. Upon the outside, the bitterness of the world had left marks upon him, the cause of his usual cold eyes and manners. The only time when one would experience true heaven with this man was when he sang. Yes, his singing unleashed the better of everyone, even Raoul, whom had despised the Opera Ghost previously.

Meg Giry was now up and about, thinking these very thoughts; her miraculous recovery had truly been just that. A miracle. A sudden stream of Erik's music drafted from below, it came from the pit orchestra. She smiled as she nimbly made her way down from the attic, toward the place where the music was emitting from.

_"Tutti veni, te armati, o forti miei soldati…"_ she heard the Angel sing. Her Angel. _"Io son l'invit-amore, giu-stosa etatore. Non teme te punto…"_

Meg Giry was now behind the Phantom, and she paused to let the music consume her. She was quickly whisked back into how this had all started. How she was even able to the find the Phantom after he had left his mask…

--

Meg splashed clumsily in the lake water as she reached shore. She recognized the porcelain mask that had been discarded, almost in a careless fashion, by a curtain of blood red velvet. She picked up the mask gently, examined it, and then set it down again with the same gentle air.

Suddenly, a strong hand shot out from behind the velvet curtain, snatching Meg's arm and pulling her into the two way mirror fluently. Meg's shriek of surprise had caught in her throat, which was suddenly constricted, her chocolate eyes now bright and wide with alarm.

"Madmoiselle…Madmoiselle!" a familiar voice hushed her.

"Vicomte?" she squeaked out, her heart still beating erratically from the surprise.

"Yes…it is I, Raoul." He never spoke above a hushed whisper. "I am sorry for all this trouble, but _he_ will kill himself if someone does not follow, and I do not think that he and I are on the best of terms, as of the moment."

A wry smile played upon his lips for a brief second before he continued, "Christine, at the moment, is hysterical. She's still in her wedding dress, upstairs, in the arms of your mother. Your mother does not dare venture more than halfway down the staircase leading down here, in any case."

The words he spoke came out in a rushed breath of air, his eyes flitting between Meg's still-wide eyes and the faint light filtering through the curtain behind her.

"I trust you, can you follow him? After all, he is only a man, and I don't believe he'd kill a young miss like you, but don't let your guard down, keep your hand at the level of your eyes!"

His last sentence slowly became louder as he thrust into her hand a myriad of lit candles upon a multi-candle holder, this candleholder had been found at the former sanctuary, abandoned.

Meg glanced in the direction of the Vicomte's retreating figure, and she heard a low rumble before all outside light was cut off; the Vicomte had seen to it that the only way to go now was further into the darkness; he had sealed off the mirror entrance with another mirror.

She cursed the Vicomte, she must have been stark raving mad to have been flirting with him, days before. After some rehearsals, she had put herself at his feet, although not in a literal sense, but she and some of the other ballerinas had drooled over him in a completely unladylike manner.

And now, she had just been fooled into going after a madman and soothing him, or, at least _trying_ to soothe him. What an idiot she was!

The Vicomte de Chagny had just up and went, before she could even give the slightest protest.

Her heart thudded in her chest at the sudden realization, and stared at the dark tunnel in front of her. She was now forced to go into the darkness. However, Meg did, in fact, have several candles in her hand, which she doubted that would run out anytime soon. But the fear was still alive in her mind, writhing around in the darkness in front of her and seemingly alive.

She shuddered at the mere thought of what could happen if the Opera Ghost were to kill her.

Meg crossed herself and said a quick prayer as she ventured deeper into the vast tunnel. "Forgive me, mother, I have let myself become vulnerable. And in that moment of weakness, I have fallen in a hole that is deeper than I can climb." She whispered while nimbly dodging fallen rocks and rats that were fatter than her hand, which in itself was quite terrifying.

After quite some time, however, Meg didn't know whether it was several minutes or several hours, but she felt that it was a great deal of time, and after a lapse of time, she began to grow quite lonely, and actually started to wish that she would be able to reach the light at the end of the tunnel, despite what might be waiting there for her. She sang a simple tune to pass the time faster. "_One early morning, just as the sun was rising, I heard a maid, singing, in the valley below…_" she paused to scream in the face of a rather large rat, that squeaked indignantly and ran into the shadows.

"_Oh, don't deceive me…_" came the tenor voice that rang aloud in response to her tune. "_Oh…never leave me_." Meg sang back lightly, her voice cracking slightly as her heart thudded so fiercely that Meg thought that it would stop at any moment. The blood rushing through her head was so violent that she felt a sudden lightheadedness. She had found the Phantom of the Opera. "_How could you use a poor maiden so? _" she ended the song, her already frail voice was now barely audible, in a whispery tone.

"Why have you come, child?" came the voice in the shadows. Meg was unsure of where exactly the voice was resonating from, because only the Persian knew that Erik was an excellent ventriloquist. When the voice asked its next question, it was coming from beside her ear, yet Meg felt no body warmth, "Did you come to see poor, unhappy Erik? Well, then…" the voice was now in front of her, and she could only look up in horror as the Phantom stepped out from the shadows into the orange light that her candles emanated.

His mask had been left back at his sanctuary, so he wore nothing and did not even try to cover his face, and now he stood before her, a full three inches taller, complete with the two gaping holes where his nose should be, a ghastly shade of yellowed skin, the marred face that looked as if his flesh had been turned inside out, upon his scalp were only a few strands of dark hair upon one side, a nearly full head of hair on the other side, and a pair of frightening yellow eyes that seemed to penetrate the shield of her body and see straight into her soul. _"Here! Here is poor, unhappy Erik_!" He bellowed, so loudly that a few pebbles fell from the ceiling to land upon their heads.

Meg felt her fingers twitch as she took in the complete sight of the Phantom up so close. When she was completely silent and un-respondent, Erik grew even more enraged, growling in a low tone and gritting his teeth in anger. "Do you not like what you see, little Giry?" He hissed, walking a few steps to that he would close the distance between them.

"Why do you always take everything the wrong way?" Meg had to clear her throat before letting the question slip from her lips, but she was deeply glad that the inquiry did not come out weak and broken-sounding. Her inquisition was strong and clear, demanding, even. She hated when the Phantom always degraded himself like this. It was truly pathetic in Meg's eyes, and her now fiery amber eyes burned back with the same passion Erik's yellow ones showed.

Truth be told, Erik was taken aback greatly by Meg's sudden strength, although he would sooner die than show any flicker of emotion at all. Where had this all come from? His disfigurement, perhaps? Maybe she thought that she was better than him because she was a pretty little doll, while he was the mistake. A terrible, horrible, revolting mistake, a complete accident made from the factory line. A disgust to society. A failure.

During the time while he was fuming to himself, Meg spoke up again, "Why do you think that everyone sees you the same way?" She sounded hurt, almost pitiful, to an extent, but she could not help such matter. Things like those were trivial to her in this moment. Her mother, Madame Giry, had always told her to look behind the mask of any living person, and be the judge of them for who they are, not, what they appear to be. _Better to be hated for something that you are, then to be loved for something that you are not. _Meg thought to herself as she gave a last declaration, however, this last sentence was in French, her native tongue.

"**Embrasse-moi!**"

* * *

**A/N: I believe that you are either itching for the titles of the songs used in this chapter, or what the french means at the end. **

**1. The first song in which the Phantom is singing is an Italian song called 'Amor Vittorioso', and the only version I have is in SATB chorus song. It's an army song, about soldiers and etc.  
2. The second song, during the duet scene in the chapter, is an audition piece I sang. The title is Early One Morning by Sarah Brightman.  
3. The last few bits of French at the end means, "Kiss me!" (gasp, I know.)**

**Review, si vous plait.**

* * *


	3. Enter Reality

****

Chapter Three: Enter Reality

**A/N: Erm, there's a lot of time-skipping in this chapter, so please, readers, beat with me here. I've done my best to try to separate the past from present. The 'Present' is three years ago, from the first chapter, and the 'past' would be starting from when Christine first disappears with the Phantom, and so fourth.**

**Thanks to: wpscannergirl2007, and Hot4Gerry to keep me moving along and inspiring me to update faster.**

**And thank you to those of you who have simply read my fic, despite your lack of reviews!  
****Thank you anyways! Your hits were surprisingly great, as compared to the number of actual reviews I received. :'(**

* * *

"Embrasse-moi!" was the resounding echo. _'Kiss me!'_ it was ringing in Erik's ears. _'Kiss me!'_ it made Meg blush considerably into a brilliant red hue, had she really sounded that desperate? _'Kiss me!'_ Erik's own face had turned even more colorless than its usual ghastly pale shade, if possible. _'Kiss me!'_ they were both speechless.

Meg Giry was appalled as the words escaped from her mouth. Where had they come from? Some feeling that had been formally unbeknownst to Meg slipped out with the words as well. Hope. Meg had never hoped for anything as much as she was, in this moment with a stranger.

How odd it sounded!

A complete and utter stranger, only known to her as the Phantom, as well as a murderer, and a man who was more than just simply _'off his rocker'_, if you could catch the drift.

"_Qui_?" Erik could only mutter as shock still seeped into his bones. _What?!_ "What nonsense are you babbling, mademoiselle?" Erik shirked away from her, slinking into the shadows.

"No, Monsieur!" Meg's squeak of protest caused him to pause in his actions, and as a result, his golden eyes stared down at her; intimidating.

Meg did not know which to say: that she wanted that kiss from him now worse than ever? Or perhaps to say something that would convince him from retreating back into the shadows?

"Porquoi?" was Erik's deep voice. _Why?_ He had asked. Erik's self-control was growing extremely weak as he struggled to make a choice: to slinking back into he shadows or, staying with the pretty little toy?

However, the pretty little toy in question was still thinking back about what she had shouted previously.

--

Truth be told, Meg was first terribly afraid of the thought of this man taking her as he had previously done with Christine. He would be taking her from her mother, and perhaps sanity itself. She shuddered at the very idea of isolation from her regular ballet rehearsals, and every so often, a singing lesson from Christine.

Indeed, Meg's singing lessons with Christine had earned herself small bits (such as duets), and even in some rare occurrences, a full solo song. Even if her singing skills were hardly anything as compared to Christine's, Meg was humbled and happy.

She had mastered the art of ballet, and now, she was beginning to conquer her voice as easily as Christine did.

As for Christine, her dancing skills were indeed rusty, hence her singing parts in Operas, and none of dancing. Christine was doubtlessly beautiful and she had captured all the hearts of the audience during the performance of her aria in the production of Hannibal. Meg herself had been drawn to tears before she even noticed that her pearly white tears were trickling down her cheeks.

Soon after her aria, Meg had already figured out that she had also captured the Phantom's heart once he had begun his attacks, and in his eerily threatening letters, he had never ill-spoken of Christine or her mother, Madame Giry. However, the Opera Ghost had always spoken of her mother, but Christine was a new piece to the puzzle.

Meg had heard from her mother that the Opera Ghost was the man who had built this Opera House, and Meg had no trouble believing in this.

The man was clearly a mad genius, and her beliefs and multiple assumptions were confirmed only when she had entered his 'sanctuary'.

_Her eyes marveled at the multiple paintings of Christine that he had drawn of her, ranging from watercolors, to oil pastels, and finally simple charcoals. _

_They were all breathtaking, yet unique in their own ways. Christine seemed to be so different, so foreign, yet vaguely familiar in a sense. There were crying, smiling, singing Christines; and there were also laughing, grieving, sleeping Christines. Foreign and familiar, same and different, lovely and disturbing. Meg left the painting's stare feeling rather lightheaded and spooked._

_After the little encounter with the paintings, she then moved to feast her chocolate eyes at his glorious throne. She quickly realized that this throne had been previously sitting within her mother's bedroom, after her father's death. Was it? Could it be? Her father's favorite chair? Had her mother received it as a gift after her father's death? Or perhaps her mother had been left it from her father's will. In any case, it was most certainly sitting there, in front of her._

_She dared to trance a thin, pale finger along the carving of the chair. There were angels all around the chair, making the chair seem to levitate; each little chubby-faced cherub was smiling brightly. A great contrast, Meg thought, to its current owner: a gloomy and serious man who lacked a sense of humor and seemed to have a surplus amount of psychological tricks and mind-numbing games, which usually ended with death, up his sleeve._

_Meg departed from the throne and headed toward the white porcelain mask. Eventually, the mask then led The Vicomte de Chagny to her, and so on and so forth, until she caught up with the Phantom._

"Does your broken heart still long to be with her?" Meg asked, after the long moment of awkward sputters from the Phantom and Meg's blushing had ceased. Her eyes were hard-set and emotionless, deep in contrast to her usual perky and cheerful mannerisms.

"Do not talk about her in such a way! You speak of her as if she were the devil! When, actually, _I_ am the true devil in this fairytale…" he took a moment to let out a laugh, a cold, dry laugh at that. "She has done nothing wrong, I have forced many horrible things upon the beautiful girl…" he trailed off as his thoughts wandered back to Christine Daae.

Meg had to roll her eyes at his state of mind when she even implied the girl's name; however, this action did not go unnoticed by the Phantom's quick, golden eyes.

"How dare you continue to mock?!" he growled out from the back of his throat.

"Sir," Meg spoke, her alto voice had strong undertones to it when she had serious matters to talk about, "You are worthy enough only for mocking!" she knew that with these words, they could be the last she would ever speak, and she would definitely be crossing over the border from 'logic and morality' to 'insanity'.

Thankfully, the Phantom did not end Meg's life -even if the tempting thought had indeed crossed his mind- but simply took a moment to think about what she had nearly screamed at him. _'Only worth enough for mocking?_', he pondered questioningly. The Phantom knew this girl, although she was not as naïve and innocent as Christine -as well as being as readable as a book as that brunette was-; she had been taught well by her mother that she should only say what is necessary, and that timing of these saying was extremely important as well. So, with all of these conclusions, and summations, Erik drew out that there was to be a good reason for why exactly she would say such words. Or perhaps, the girl was simply too stupid?

Erik burned his yellow gaze into her murky green ones, and saw hesitation in them. Meg quickly covered the emotion up, however, and it impressed Erik greatly that she was capable of such things.

_Meg was completely different from Christine. Not only physically, but emotionally and behavior wise as well. Christine, he had to admit, was quiet, pensive, and gentle, much more of a child than a woman. She needed to be protected from the outside world, and she could hardly make her own decisions. Yes, that was what Erik had felt when he observed her. Protection. He was her protector, her Angel of Music, and he felt privileged to be able to even be in her presence with her acknowledgement. She was certainly beautiful, but something in the back of his mind screamed at him that the relationship was wrong and that she was far too young at heart, even if her physical appearance was not. _

_With Meg, Erik felt more at ease, somehow. It was indeed weird for the Ghost, since he had never felt truly comfortable around anyone besides her mother. He had questioned whether this feeling was simply because she was Antoinette's daughter, but he doubted it. He knew better than to do that. Meg, though younger than Christine, had much more intelligence and was much more quick-witted than the latter. Common sense, society called it. Yes, that was it, Meg had much more common sense. Sensible, intelligent and logical, that was entirely Meg in a nutshell._

Meg was startled when Erik turned his frighteningly yellow gaze upon her, directly at her eyes. She had been hesitating when she spoke her last sentence, wondering if he was going to kill her for the sudden outburst.

The flight or fight response, it was called. When presented with a dangerous situation in which one could end up getting hurt, it is the decision that your mind makes up, depending upon your opponent and whether or not you can make way for you to run away, in case you do not wish to attack. Meg Giry's mind had decided that running away was certainly a better idea than facing her own death with this murderer. Therefore, hesitation was the most evident emotion within her eyes, before she quickly masked them up with a blank stare.

With her near-flawless eye-reading skills, Meg found an emotion hiding within those alluring golden orbs; however, she could not exactly pinpoint this emotion. Happiness? Humor? Bemusement? No, it was none of these, it was impression_. 'Impression?'_ Meg wondered. _'What? Why?'_

_'Porquoi?' _Erik and Meg thought simultaneously, staring hard into each other's eyes. A third person would easily consider them and their current situation as rather heated and passionate, had they been any closer. However, the two of them were nearly three feet apart from each other. Hardly romantic, yes?

"Why would you say such a thing, Marguerite?" The Phantom's quiet voice resounded throughout the cave, causing a few rats to scurry off into the darkness, as well as causing Meg to flinch.

"You act as if you are a moral person. You act as if you are doing us all a favor when you murder. You make it seem like we have done the wrong thing if we choose to disobey your commands. You give the impression to Christine that you are the Angel of Music! Yet, when we do not pay you, a murderer of people, more than just Joseph Buquet, I'm sure, your twenty thousand francs, you growl and threaten in the shadows. You have been teaching Christine for many months now, and yet, it was only two nights ago that you revealed yourself as a man to her! You took advantage of her innocence; her naivety!" Meg paused only briefly to take a moment to calm herself and to catch her breath before continuing with the same strong, lecturing voice. (Apparently, the moment she took to calm herself wasn't very helpful.) "And even when you appeared to her, you still did not tell her that you were a man! She has had to come to conclusions with only the help of the one and only Vicomte de Chagny!" Meg shouted Raoul's title, spitting the words into Erik's face.

Erik could only stare at Meg, a large number of emotions flickering in those fiery yellow eyes.

"The Vicomte de Chagny," Meg cleared her throat before continuing, "do you know who that is, Phantom?" she inquired, and before Erik could open his mouth to respond, she answered her own question. "The Vicomte is a handsome, charming man, who is willing to give up everything he has in order to hold the one he loves dearly. In this case, the one he loves dearly would also be the mademoiselle that you held dear to your heart. Or perhaps, you still do hold her close, even if she will never be yours." she narrowed her eyes.

In Erik's eyes, there clearly shown anger at the mention of the Vicomte in such a friendly way, however, at the mention of Christine, the anger was quickly extinguished.

"Yes Phantom, Christine Daae, your former prodigy, and the very person who has betrayed you." Meg was definitely treading on thin ice, but she was getting a good deal off her chest, and she was certainly not going to stop, at any rate. "Where is your Angel of Music now?!" she thundered boldly, even surprising herself with the sudden newfound strength.

Erik flinched at her statement, to Meg's amazement. The Phantom then closed his eyes; gloved firsts clenching and unclenching. Meg was truly astonished, however, when the Phantom reopened his eyes to let two tears drip down the length of his face.

Meg was speechless, and she opened and closed her mouth, trying to conjure up words or an apologetic fashion, yet finding that if she were to apologize to him, it would mean that she would be taking back her words from moments before, so Meg simply gaped at him a series of times, then shut her mouth firmly and pursed her lips.

"She is gone…"

* * *

**A/N: Well, while I was at work, I bought myself a notebook and began scribbling down words for my fanfiction. Just thought I'd let you know, even if it were completely unneccesary. **

**Review, please.**


	4. Enter Options

Chapter Four: Enter Options

**A/N: As said in the previous chapter, there is much much much time skipping going on! Bear with me, please.  
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except the storyline, and not the characters.**

**Sole Thanks to Angelic-Reader, who is truly Angelic with all her reviews.**

* * *

_Previously:_

_"She is gone…"_

"She is gone…" the crying man whispered to Meg, who merely stared at him with hard-set, emerald eyes; almost glaring at him, if he had not been crying.

Deep down inside, Erik knew that Christine was now forever lost to him; snatched away by that deceiving Vicomte, whom, Erik knew, had listened in upon the conversation that Erik and Christine first had in her dressing room. Especially when Erik had confessed his love for her.

"But you must love me!" he had shouted, enraged, at her. Erik saw Christine visibly tremble. She was taken aback by his sudden, incredulous outburst, and he could read this off just by her wide eyes and mouth. (Her lips had been parted at the time.)

When she first did not respond; Erik, for the first time in his life, felt his already-broken heart break even more, if that was possible.

It was mainly why he had chosen the nickname of 'Phantom' and 'Opera Ghost'. He was a man that was missing a heart, emotionally and physically.

Emotionally, he knew that the world, including his own mother and father, had ripped apart and even stomped on his still-beating heart; by beating, ridiculing, and simply rejecting him altogether, by refusing to even so much as glance in his direction.

The physical condition of his heart was deteriorating. (Once, he even declared to himself that he should definitely stop doing fancy thundering ventriloquism from the rafters of the theater, doing fancy jumps and throttling his victims too hard.)

(His muscles seized when he throttled too hard; his voice went even raspier when he did ventriloquism; and his heart had minor pauses in the heartbeat when he hit the ground too hard from jumping, as well as the breath being knocked from his lungs.)

The massive beatings he had survived as s child was now catching up with him as he entered his forties. He had chest pain during his tries of composition for new music. These pains seemed to irritate Erik more than having musician's block. Erik was also alarmed to find out that he had developed a case of asthma. (Hence the ragged breathing when he had explained in vivid and explicit narration to Daroga, what he had done with Christine during the time when she had gone missing.)

"So," he began to speak, and he had to clear his voice, for it began cracking, "…so, what are you proposing that I should do?" His ever-yellow eyes bore into her forest-green ones with quiet fury. "Are you implying at I should forget all about Christine Daae, and then promptly fall in love with _you_, child?" He growled at her through his perfect teeth.

_'Well, at least his teeth are okay…'_ Meg thought wistfully while matching his stare, and making equilibrium. _'I wonder if his privates are deformed as well?'_ The thought entered Meg's mind boldly, and she blushed at herself; some lady she was!

_"…and then promptly fall in love with _you_, child?"_ Meg jerked out of her dream state into reality, once this growled out sentence reached her ears.

"W-w-what?!" she sputtered, incredulous at the spoken statement, and carried her and up to her hair -which was currently loose- and running the pallid skin through the golden locks, in embarrassment. Her face was as pink as her lips, which were pursed tightly. "I've said nothing of the sort!" she cried out indignantly, huffing angrily. "B-besides, you're not my type, and I would never like you." She rushed the last part out of the sentence with a single rushed breath between her lips.

While Meg was giving her little rant, Erik was in his very own dreamland, _'Fall in love with _her_? The little Giry?' _It was absurd, until he heard the last part of her sentence. _'…I would never like you.'_ Erik's golden eyes snapped to her face in silent hostility. Half of his logical mind pressed him to ignore the sentence, but the other half, the proud, egotistical side of him, pressed him to show her where her place was. After a few minutes of agonizing analysis for the Phantom, he had decided an overall outcome to the situation he was currently presented with.

"Marguerite Giry," The Phantom enunciated clearly, her name rolling off his pink tongue and echoing off the cavern walls. "I shall propose this for you--" A devilish smirk found its way upon Erik's lips and remained firmly rooted there.

Meg gave a shudder of disgust, what sort of proposal would he have in mind? _One that is sadistic and twisted in every way possible._ Her sub-consciousness hissed at her. The blonde girl wanted nothing more than to weep at herself, her fate was now in the hands of a infamous madman. But any thoughts of tears immediately vanished as he began to sing to her, her fate. She was enthralled.

**(The song is the tune to Past the Point of No Return. The part in which Erik first sings: **_I have brought you here_**. )**

_You will stay here, _

_In the dark depths of this cave, _

_With me, You will stay for a week,_

_And I shall seduce you,_

_Seduce you._

_You will fall in love,_

_So deep that it might bring you fears,_

_But you shall know if you have fallen,_

_At the end, you will have fallen._

_Fallen so deeply that,_

_You shall not,_

_Leave me._

_Leave…me._

Meg was taken completely aback. He was going to try and make her fall in love with her? It had been her proclamation that she would never be in love with the likes of him that had driven him to declare his new decision to her now, and she knew it all too well. Alas, she could not help but doing anything but nod feebly. She hung her head slightly, as if she were a broken marionette.

However, in the back of her mind, Meg agreed to herselfthat she would never fall in love with him, and return to the surface, unharmed and most definitely _not_ in love with the Phantom of the Opera.

Right?

_Right._

She would be unscathed and he would be lost to her forever, and Meg allowed herself to feel excited to be thinking of the golden sunlight again.

Erik felt a pang of guilt when she pulled such a broken face like that._ Haunting_. He thought whimsically as he offered her his bare hand. His gloves had gotten lost somehow in their intense conversation.

Meg took his hand and followed him nimbly as he led her through the darkness, wondering what was to become of her.

* * *

**A/N: Ah, a cliffhanger! I haven't done one of these in ages. (: Review, and you will be rewarded. Although, I do not deem it mandatory like other authors, and threaten my readers. I am happy enough that this story has had so much hits. Thank you all who have even read and not reviewed. Thank you.**


	5. Enter: The First Day

**Chapter Five: Day One**

**A/N**: I guess it's time to update again? It's been slightly long, I think? I'm unaware of how long it's been. It is really late right now, and I'm just going to type out what I wrote out on several sheets of notepaper. So, here goes nothing!

Thanks to **Angelic-Reader**, for reviews. (:

* * *

_Previously:_

_Meg was taken completely aback. He was going to try and make her fall in love with her?_

_--_

Marguerite Giry thought that he was making folly. _Of course! The Phantom would surely be jesting! _She assured herself with thoughts like these. How could she be of any use to him?

"Sir," she began speaking, catching his yellow gaze (which promptly made her shudder) before she spoke further, "Just what do you think you are going to gain from having me fall in love with you?" she said boldly, then blinked once.

The Girys did not have a fortune that he could perhaps benefit from. On the contrary, the Girys were close to falling in multiple debts; living paycheck to paycheck, sadly. Meg had just recently achieved a job at the local bakery. All was going well, until she had been brought here on such unfortunate circumstances.

She was now trapped, for a week, at minimum, and she had decided that no matter what he would do, or had in store for her, she would not fall for any of it. She would hold strong until the week was over, and then she would return to her life as if nothing had ever happened.

Meg had also noticed his Don Juan mask on the floor of the stage in the last act of the Opera, and remembered looking up and gasping at the sight of the horrid face. Why this sudden memory came to her, she did not know. Speaking of masks, why did everyone wish to have it removed so badly? It was bizarre and peculiar. Meg herself had never wanted to remove it, mostly in fear of what lay underneath. She had seen multiple times, the ghastly, disfigured face of the Phantom. Meg had to be completely honest: his face was dreadful in every way possible.

Her thoughts flashed again, back to the first time she had seen his face…

--She remembered screaming, just as the many other audience members, Ballet Rats, and Chorus Girls.

The first day was seemingly uneventful to Meg, who now lie down in her makeshift bed, her green eyes wide open in alertness.

The blonde recalled the day's happenings…

_-- A/N: Flashback to the previous day --_

Meg was almost sure that it was nighttime. It was the first night she was forced here. She also had a confirmation from her stomach , which growled indignantly. She was under strict orders to not bother the genius behind the mask under any circumstances, unless the case were that she were somehow on fire or in danger of dying.

Well, eating was extremely vital for life, and Meg was terribly bored anyhow, so she decided to poke into his lair and disturb him. She had been told that if she were to come inside, he would not have his mask on, and that she would surely die of fright, upon seeing his face from such close proximities.

Meg tiptoed to an overly large hole-in-the-wall, and called out into the darkness, "Phantom, please make yourself presentable, I am coming inside."

There was a sudden groan from the darkness. Had he been sleeping? Meg thought, appalled. The groan was followed by a flash of torches being lit at the same time, and it pierced through the darkness so suddenly that Meg flinched violently.

The petite blond took a few, slow breaths to steady herself, then crept into the lion's den. (Not in the literal sense, reader.)

She saw his figure sitting in an armchair next to an extremely cob-webbed desk. "Sir," Meg said curtly. He could send her upstairs back into the theater, which was her first solace in life. (Her first solace later turned into Christine's dressing room, where the girls would often giggle and gossip, until the Phantom took appearance into the brunette's life.)

He was un-respondent, and she few a light shade of pink in annoyance.

"Sir? Would you please-" Meg started to speak, lacing her words with a touch of innocence. She had always been good at that. However, it seemed that these attempts at sweetness did not affect the man.

"And do indulge me, Little Giry. Why are you not screaming?" he interrupted her sentence, breaking her concentration. (She was restraining herself from sound aggravated or pissy, but she guessed that she was failing miserably at it.)

"_Excuse _me?!" she asked, incredulous. Her shocked thoughts ran to impure ones immediately and she flushed, as a metal image flashed in her skull.

The armchair swiveled around, to her amazement, and he faced her with a monotonous expressions etched across his half-face. "Kindly remove that blush on our face. I am a civilized man, not a lustful, bloodthirsty monster, as most people say." His eyebrows went flat and straight.

She would have let out a guffaw if the Phantom was Christine. Hell, she would have laughed if the situation were with anyone else besides the Phantom. However, she was not with anyone else, so she hardly gave a chuckle or smile or an sort. She pursed her lips and said, "Kindly give me food, and I shall leave you well enough alone."

The Phantom was taken aback. Food? Had a day already passed? He himself was unaware of regularly eating. Even with his slightly muscular frame, he could go for days without any food, because of the streaks of inspirations that he had, which led to days of straight compositions of new music.

Suddenly, he heard the low gurgle of a stomach. Erik was sure that it was not his own, and stared with soulless eyes at Marguerite Giry.

Meg flushed yet again, gaping in sheer embarrassment, "Kindly avert your eyes the hell over." She found a strong, firm voice somewhere within her shell of a shell-shocked person. And Gods, was Meg tremendously glad for it! She could have died right then and there when her stomach had screamed for food. And her face had burned in fury when the man acknowledged the protest of her stomach with the blankest stare she had ever seen. (Even more dumbfounded than Christine's own deer-in-headlights look.) She guessed it had rubbed off of her to him, which was not surprising at all to Meg. After all, the man's singing voice had rubbed off on Christine, had it not?)

She had cursed at him, although indirectly, but still, she had sworn in the presence of a man, even if Paris' entire population thought him as a freak of nature and a monster.

Erik was, neddless to say, astounded when meg actually used the word 'Hell' at him. Christine had never spoken to him like that. Christine was dumb, easy to manipulate and gentle to the point where she would stop breathing if he was to tell her that her body's respiration were hurting the atmosphere around them.

Now, it dawned on Erik that Christine was like most of his victims. Unsuspecting, usually innocent, and easily frightened. He had actually considered that she would have understood his pain after the world had shown him no love, not even his own parents, but to no avail.

She did not love him for who he was, but out of pity. Erik did not wish to be married to someone who held only pity for him, and although it broke his heart to do so, he let her go. And here he was now, stuck with a smart-alecky blonde who cursed.

He had never heard a woman curse at him with such emotions before. Sure, he had been gossiped about, and he heard everything, but she gave the words a sense of humor, as if she were talking to herself as well, trying to reassure herself while him too.

In Meg's mind, however, there was one heck of a battle raging within those confinements of a brain.

_'Why does he look so appalled?! It's not as if he's never heard a woman curse before, right?' _Meg's attitude argued.

_'He's got to be appalled! He's just witnessed the Prima Ballerina of the Opera Populaire curse! What kind of lady do you call yourself?'_ the logical side reasoned.

_'Oh sure, like he's never cursed or been cursed at before. Besides, you can't help it! If all of the men that are dating the Chorus Girls or Ballet Rats knew about our cursing streaks, they'd drop us off at the nearest stop on the street without batting an eyelash in a matter of seconds!' _Attitude said.

_'In any case, keep your cool, Meg!'_ Logical shouted, ending the inner conversation.

--

Meg shook her head, thinking herself crazy and labeled herself with a case of temporary insanity. She forgot why she was even here, standing in front of a known killer and kidnapper, all inside a dark and clammy-walled cave.

"Food, is it?" the Phantom's now quiet voice hardly gave an echo. This question was followed by the screeching of a myriad of bats, hardly giving Meg any time to give a response to the said question and causing her to scream and cover her ears, while kneeling on the ground. When all of the screeching receded, and Meg had long since stopped screaming, she stood back up on shaky, bruised legs and saw that the seat he had once been sitting in was empty. Meg stifled a gasp, perhaps he had left her here, all alone, never to return?

Shock seeped into Meg's skin, eventually burning the very bones of her. She crumpled to the floor, gasping and heaving in uneven breaths. She attempted to breathe evenly, but all she did was cause herself to hyperventilate and make her pupils dilate.

Marguerite did not know when it was that she fell asleep, but she soon did, all alone on the cold, wet, stone floor of the cavern.

When Meg woke up, she was warm, unlike the cold she had experienced when she fell asleep. She looked blearily at herself; she was covered in blankets and upon a makeshift bed. She guessed that the Phantom had moved her here, and blushed. He had carried her, and covered her with blankets that she was sure that had been on his bed previously.

She shifted her position on the bed, and her green eyes landed on a plate of food. There was also a note. She read it from her distance.

_Little Giry,_

_Here is the food you requested. I do hope you wake up early enough to eat it while it's still warm. There is also a pill next to your meal, it should help with your nerves, and better yet, it shall quiet you. I remain, your humble and obedient servant._

_O.G._

Meg took the plate of pastries. She felt her hands warm up at the touch of the still-warm plate. She smiled as she took in the sight of the fluffy croissant and noticed the wisps of heat rolling off the flaky bread. The hunger in her eyes was soon replaced by suspicion. Had he stolen this?

She continued to stare at it, however, hunger won out the best in her and she took bites of it, chewing slowly and swallowing carefully, as to not choke on the pastry. She could not spot a pitcher of water anywhere, you see.

Meg finished the meal (or rather yet, the snack) all too quickly for her tastes. However, she would have to be content with what she had and she dared enough to swallow the pill as well. Of course, she had examined it for several minutes before giving such a thought to even lick the medicine. When she decided that it was not poison, she ate it, and indeed, the Opera Ghost was true to his word. The strange pill calmed her down immensely, causing her to go into a monotonous mood.

"Are you awake, little Giry?" The Phantom sang out the sentence with several notes on the C scale.

It annoyed Meg, and she gracefully glided over to the opening of the doorway, a habit from being a ballerina all these years, swishing back the curtain, meeting his face with an exasperated, "Must you sing everything to me? I am not Christine!"

Erik was surprised, was this really the little girl he watched growing up at the Opera house? It startled him so much that, for an instant, he mistook her to be Christine's age. Even in her trousers and ruffled shirt, with the cravat nowhere to be found, she look stunning. Her golden-blonde hair was cascading down her shoulders in soft curls, while her eyes gave the exact opposite of that which her hair gave. Her eyes were penetrating, intimidating, even, with the cool, analyzing, appraising emerald gaze of them.

Erik stopped himself short from continuing his thoughts and cleared his throat, "We can go back to the Theater now, Giry." He semi-ordered, ignoring her little comment about his singing. She was beginning to get on his nerves, how dare she speak to him like that when she clearly knows that he can destroy her in mere minutes? He would learn to silence her yet!

--A/N: End flashback--

And now, Meg lay awake at her bed, wishing for sleep to take her into its cocoon of softness, and awaiting the Second Day with the Phantom.

* * *

**A/N**: So, review, please. Updates will be coming soon.

**Attention**: If you have given me a review and I have not replied in some sort of way, check your e-mail, I have made sure to reply to every single review in each of my stories in some way possible. Unless, of course, there was one case in which I could not contact a fellow reader of my stories. Be attentive to your inboxes, thank you.


End file.
